SMMA 68

Episode 68

At the very moment the Skull Headmaster was sputtering in disbelief, Ihan and the Blue Dragon Tower students were sprinting up the staircase inside White Tiger Tower.

The mana is reforming!

Ihan could feel it.

The scattered wards of the tower were already pulling themselves back together, strong magical circuits regathering, preparing to reignite.

They had been disrupted by brute shock, but these were Academy-level enchantments—of course contingencies had been prepared for recovery.

And if every spell came live again…

The plan could collapse.

Ihan didn’t know how many enchantments webbed the tower, or what effects they carried. But what he did know was that letting them recover would bode badly.

Swish!

“Waaagh!”
“Gainando! Gainando!!”

One of the wards had already completed, flashing on and seizing its target. Gainando was snatched by some unseen hook, dragged screaming back. Like claws clutching his very collar, he was hurled out through the grand doorway of White Tiger Tower—tumbling and rolling across the outer yard.

An anti-intruder banishment spell.

“Hurry! Before the others recover!”

“R-right!”

Steeling themselves, the Dragons regained composure at their leader’s command. Cool-faced, sharp as carved stone, Wadanaz’s presence steadied their panicked breaths, and they chased after him.

BANG!

The lounge doors burst open. Ihan and Ratford darted inside, scanning for anything of value—or more importantly, anything resembling the flag.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

The startled voice came from Derregue, awakened from dozing in his room by noise.

To his shock—first-year Dragons were pouring into the Tiger common room.

“Ihan—? How can you—”

“Derregue!”

“Huh?”

“Behind you!”

“Eh?”

Instinctively, he turned. At that instant Ihan slammed a bead punch straight to his chin.

His orcish friend collapsed, betrayed entirely by trust.

“Ha! That’s what you get, you arrogant Tigers! Face the wrath of Wadanaz!”

One Dragon roared, inflating the atmosphere. Yonellia, grimacing, cast a troubled look at Ihan.

Her eyes said, Was that really necessary?!

Ihan shook his head firmly.

“This is better for Derregue.”

For he had excluded Derregue from the plan deliberately—not for fear of betrayal, but precisely because Derregue was already half-outsider among his Tower. To reveal collusion now would ostracize him permanently.

Still—hitting his jaw so hard? Yonellia wasn’t so sure.

“At least slumped unconscious, Tigers won’t think he cooperated. He needn’t be branded an exile like Nillia.”

“…Did you really need to compare it to Nillia?”

“Found it!”

Ratford, thief by profession, had rooted out the flag—only there weren’t just one, but several.

“Another here!”
“And here’s one too!”

The Tigers had forged practice flags for their con and left failures scattered. Symbols crude or blurred—but in darkness, nearly indistinguishable.

“All of them. Take everything.”

“…!”

Right! Gather them all!

The Dragons surged, seizing every banner like a ravening mob.

“What’s going on here?”

Another Tiger stumbled down—black-haired elf Rowena.

When her eyes met those of the disheveled princess Adenart, who stood shoving flags into her sleeves, she nearly fainted.

“What is happening?!”

“Silence! Move not, or the princess pays the price!”

“?!”

Adenart, dragged along to ‘assist,’ snapped into role as hostage. Her eyes flickered in alarm, but Rowena, struck with terror, threw her arms up.

“No! Don’t hurt her! I’ll stay still!”

“That’s right! Stay put!” Ihan snapped coldly.

Now immobilized, Rowena helplessly watched as the princess herself nodded grimly, still clutching banners.

“All checked! No more here!” Ratford cried.

“Good. Run!”

Shhhhk—

The tower wards were regathering; faint sparks began to churn, heralds of reactivation. At once, two Dragons were expelled violently like Gainando before, flung out into the cold yard.

“Those outside—flee to Dragon Tower! Ratford—run!”

“Yes, sir!”

“DRAGONS ARE IN OUR HALL!!!”

The shouts finally roused every Tiger, boots pounding as they woke, saw the impossible—intruders within their Tower, and their flags missing.

Rowena stammered, “They threatened the princess—!”

“Fool! They’re still our fellow first-years!”

“…!”

“Chase them! Don’t let them escape!!”

Some dragged, some sprinting, the Dragons escaped—narrow, breathless.

But those expelled by wards were collapsed in nausea, staggering like seasick sailors. Gainando writhed on the ground.

“Carry the fallen! The Tigers come!!”

“Ugh—got it!”

Heaving him on his shoulders, Ihan ran. Gainando squealed, “Gentle! Drive gentle, coachman!!”

“This isn’t a carriage, you fool!”

Torches flared as enraged Tigers thundered with screams.

“Return it, you thieving bastards!!!”

“Us? You scamming traitors, weaving fakes! You’re the cheaters!” retorted Asan bravely.

“Less taunting, more running, Asan!!”

Yet Tigers were rapid. Ihan realized with grim certainty: someone will be caught.

Ratford gasped beside him. “Use the prince as bait?”

“No!” Ihan snapped. Truly, it hadn’t crossed his mind.

But Tigers screamed accusations: “Wadanaz! You took Rowena’s princess hostage! You tricked Derregue, who trusted you!”

Angrago, the goatman, shouted in fury.

Ihan coolly twisted it. “Derregue? Just another pawn. Blame his own stupidity.”

“You bastard!!!” Angrago lunged—but Ihan, hardened by Volady’s cruel training, felled him swiftly.

“Spring forth—move!”

Water orbs pummeled Angrago, sapping his limbs, sending him sprawling.

Tigers raised him weeping. Light cast Ihan’s cold face in harsh shadow, like a demonic warlock.

“Cursed monster! Only tricks and vile brute force!” Angrago vomited rage.

Rising torches gleamed—his fellow knights looked down upon their fallen comrade, seeing Ihan as the villain of legend.

“Cough—cough—! You shall never beat him… urgh—” Ihan slapped Gainando’s mouth shut when he tried to provoke further.

“For assignments only. Spare needless hatred.”

“SHUT YOUR LIES!” came the Tigers’ cries.

Even Ihan admitted inwardly: Those words ring hollow.

Hated or not, survival demanded it.

“Stay back! I can cast more spheres endlessly! Attack me here in darkness if you dare!”

His voice was iron.

Knights wavered. None enjoyed being told to advance under such odds.

Yet Angrago cried again from their ranks, “For Derregue! For the pawn he made of him! For his honor!!”

Fire roared in their eyes—the knightly madness valuing dignity over flesh.

Gainando whimpered, “Are… are we doomed?”

Ihan smacked his mouth shut again, calculating fast.

Left—water orb suppress. Right—sword strike. Blind their sight, then slip away.

But calculation was shredded at once.

Gainando shrieked, pointing. “Behind! Behind!!”

“Lies!” the Tigers spat. “How dumb do you think we are, Wadanaz?!”

“LOOK BEHIND—!!”

“Never shall we—AAGHHHH!!!”

WHOOOOOSH!

Massive vines cracked through the dark, seizing Tigers in coils, lifting them shrieking into air.

And then it appeared: an enormous vine-monster, tearing through the night.

Ihan thought in horror he had triggered some Tower defense summons—but no.

“—Containment breach! Plant summon breached greenhouse!”
“They’re heading toward first-years!”
“Don’t look at me! Not my fault—punishment cell him!!”
“Shut up and handle it!!”

Shouts from afar—professors quarreling. Not trap, but accident.

Thunk!

Out of the black strode Professor Garcia, landing lightly, staff cutting through shadow. Her single sweep forced the vines to recoil. She turned to the boy.

“Another escape by summons. A harsh week indeed for first-years, Wadanaz.”

“…Wait. Did you say, ‘another’—and ‘summons’—plural?”

Yes. More than one. Again.

“Wadanaz, why are you here?”

“Professor! The vine-beast! It carried a student off! Save them, please!”

“Understood. Stay calm.”